Page 42 of When a Highlander Weds a Hellion
“Aye, ye do. Brodee says Broch was verra sick last night and would have died if nae for the healer Esmerelda, who created a cure for the poison he’d been given.”
She tugged on her slippers, then stood and looked at her brother. “Does everyone else believe Brodee’s innocence?”
“Aye, especially because when they left ye here, Broch told us he was doing so to keep ye safe, and that he and Brodee planned to question all Blackswells again. Upon coming here this morning, Brodee even offered to return the half of Derthshire his family received for yer marriage to Broch, if we will help them find the real murderer.”
“Our families are at peace?” she asked, stupefied but thankful.
“Aye. Finally, after so long hating each other.” He met her gaze. “Are ye prepared to forgive, Sister?”
She nodded and then headed out the door to see Brodee. She was prepared to forgive and to aid her husband, whether he wished it or not, in discovering who poisoned him. He was not the only one determined to protect. She wanted to protect him, too. She wanted his love, and to give him hers.
She made her way to the great hall, her face heating as she saw Brodee. She had been so awful to him. “I’m sorry,” she said simply, walking toward him as she nodded to her father and brothers.
Brodee shoved back a lock of his hair and smiled, which looked truly genuine as it lit his blue eyes. “As am I,” he said. “If I’d been truthful from the start, and we had nae coveted the land all those years—”
“Bygones,” she inserted, looking to her father and Donell, who nodded their agreement. “How is Broch?” Her chest tightened just asking the question. Heavens, he could have died!
“Recovering and grouchy. He dunnae ken I’m here to fetch ye.”
“Oh.” She bit her lip in consternation. “Mayhap he will nae be happy that ye have come for me.”
Brodee grinned mischievously. “He will nae, to be certain, but I believe ye will help him heal more quickly.”
“Me? I’m nae a healer.”
“I ken, but the last thing he said before he passed out last night was, ‘Tell Katreine I loved her.’” A cry of relief broke from her lips, at which Brodee smiled. “I thought this would please ye.” He looked at her knowingly. “I believe if he hears the same from ye, he may heal more quickly.”
She gave her brother and her father a stern look. “All is forgiven, aye?”
“Aye,” they both agreed.
Her father cleared his throat and said, “We will leave half of Derthshire with the Blackswells so both clans may prosper.”
“Thank ye, Father!” she said, feeling a peace she had not felt in years. “Come.” She grasped Brodee’s arm. “My husband needs me at our home.”
It was an all-day journey, but when she entered their bedchamber late that night, Broch was snoring soundly. Even in sleep, her husband looked every inch the indomitable warrior. His thick arms rested on his hips, and he gripped his sword in one hand and a dagger in the other. He wore only his braies, but he had two more daggers sheathed and in ready reach. She leaned down, wanting very badly to touch him, to run her hands over the solid length of his long Viking legs, and over the corded muscle of his chest, but she did not want to wake him. He was a legend, but then so was Achilles. Even men who seemed indestructible could be felled, and her husband almost had been—by poison.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she blinked, causing some drops to land on Broch’s face. Instantly, his eyelids flew open. He looked baffled for a moment, and then his eyes narrowed dangerously. “What are ye doing here?” he growled.
She pried his fingers from his sword, arching her eyebrows at him when he would not relent. Finally, with a grunt, he released his weapons to her but indicated that she should lay them on the bed, which she did on his right side so she could lie beside him on his left. She rolled onto her side and reached an arm over his chest to hold him while she settled her cheek against his shoulder. She slid her hand to his heart, grateful for the strong beat beneath her fingertips. She glanced up at him and was not surprised to find his keen gaze watching her.
“I’m here,” she said, “because I love ye, just as I ken ye love me, and,” she rushed on when he looked as though he was about to protest, “ye need me to protect ye, just as I need ye to protect me. And the best way for us to do that is together.”
He opened and closed his mouth several times before he said, “Either ye are a fool for disobeying me or ye are unaccountably reckless.” She knew by the tenderness in his eyes and the love shining there that she would win this particular battle to stay by her husband’s side. She pushed herself up toward his face and brushed her lips to his warm ones. “I’m a fool—for ye,” she murmured.
“’Tis good.” He slanted his mouth over hers, only breaking the kiss to say, “Because I’m a fool for ye, as well.” He held her face in his hands. “I love ye, lass. I think I fell the day I met ye.”
Her heart squeezed at his words. “I love ye, too, and I am certain I fell the day I met ye.” He kissed her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, and then her mouth. His hands started to pull up her skirts, but she leaned back. “Ye are recovering from being poisoned,” she said sternly.
“Aye.” A glint came to his eyes. “But there is nae any better medicine than yer touch.”
“In that case,” she said wickedly, coming to her knees and drawing her simple gown over her head, “love me.”
“Always,” he replied, sitting up and sliding his hands under her loose léine to cup her breasts.
Her heart sang with delight as he began to work his magic upon her body, teasing her nipples until they ached with the flicks and circles of his tongue. And then he took the hard buds in his mouth and suckled with long pulls that made her temporarily lose coherent thought. Soon, her body was on fire with need for her husband, and she thought to make their joining quick, since he’d been ill, but he clearly had a different plan.
He undressed them both slowly, his gaze worshiping her even as his hands and mouth did. He trailed kisses between the valley of her breasts, over her quivering belly, and between her thighs, which he gently parted. He ignited her need to her very core with lavish slides of his tongue to her most intimate parts, making her scream and rake at his back. And when he began to make her frenzied, as he had before with his wicked mouth, she tugged his head up. “’Tis my turn.”
